Driven by my lifelong passion for the guitar, I have tried for years to understand how and in what way the sensitivity towards a certain aesthetic genre corresponds to the identification and definition of personal musical identity. In this titanic fight with flamenco, every minute on the guitar gives me insights and riches that I will check and write down in a writing project.
Among the many fruits of the meeting with the biographical story of Vivienne Haigh-Wood, the occasion for a reflection on the psychic identity, investigated in the second-sight pregnancy, existential opportunity, perceptive port, would also have been born; music here has nothing to do with the matter; rather, there is a tangle of sacrifice and artistic inspiration, love and disease, dualism and individualism, lunacy and mystery that always live in every proper relationship.
Blues for Armando
Following my constitutive inability to live in a house, be it physical or spiritual, and the many and not always discernible acquaintances of what some call “decentralised self”, the project of investigation on my personal ethnographic identity, an interweaving of North and South, swamps and cliffs, sweat and spleen. A journey in search of my family roots, conducted under the spiritual guidance of my inseparable alter ego, Armando: who probably does not even exist. But the blues, he does play it well, like black people do, and as for tortellini and lambrusco, he is no second best at all, for sure.